


Migraine

by Hyruliangold



Category: SHINee
Genre: M/M, Pointless Drabble, Sick Minho, Weird Fluff, migraines suck, taemin takes care of minho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 11:43:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15000179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyruliangold/pseuds/Hyruliangold
Summary: Wild idea: Minho has a nasty, heavy migraine.





	Migraine

**Author's Note:**

> this is a very pointless drabble, still I hope is good? Inspired by my sister who suffered this when we were younger.  
> Also, this is my first time posting on ao3, but please know that this has been already posted on AFF under the same username, so don't be alarmed.

They were only fifteen minutes away from going live in a variety show along with another group and they were sharing a few laughs with the crew members when Taemin saw Minho. He had stood up to take a water bottle, and popped two red pills before coming back. The youngest member of SHINee frowned and looked around; it seemed he was the only one who saw him.

“You okay?” He asked when Minho sat next to him. He asks, because he must know; when those red pills appear in the picture it’s never a good thing. Minho slowly nodded and said: “Just a blind-spot,”

Taemin let out a tiny oh and looked at Minho with slight worry, for blind-spots could only mean one thing.

Five years ago, just weeks after turning twenty, Minho started to experience headaches here and there. He shrugged it off as signs of stress; drinking more water and eating well would do the trick, sleeping more also helped. The headaches would last an hour or two—three at maximum—and they would go away. But soon things started to escalate. The little headaches started to intensify; his head would feel like it would explode—literally—bright lights and even the tiniest of sounds would trigger an even greater pain. From two to three hours, they would last seven, twelve hours—a whole day. With it came the sweats, the nausea, and the blood-shot eyes; his body would feel heavy and just walking from his room to the kitchen would make his head pound tremendously.

The SHINee members decided that it was enough of it when one time, the headache lasted three days. Jinki had called their private doctor to make an emergency appointment, and the health specialist had no other choice but to go to their dorm because Minho was in no shape to go to the clinic; he couldn’t get out of bed.

As the man checked on Minho, his bandmates and his manager couldn’t help but think of the worse, specially Taemin. What was going on with Minho? What if he was terminally ill? Those were a bit extreme, but they couldn’t help it. Whatever that could take Choi Minho down like that, it was no good.

“It is just migraine,” The doctor said calmly to five incredulous faces. “The symptoms you described and what he told me—that is migraine. But if you still doubt, we can run a few tests to see if there’s anything else. But I assure you that it is migraine.”

Even with the professional’s words, they weren’t so sure; they’ve never seen someone with migraine and so they were unfamiliar with the symptoms. Minho went through the tests, and it was a disaster. The MRI was terribly loud and the bright, white hospital lights were also a [[hassle]]. It took every ounce of Minho’s body not to scream in the middle of it all. And for nothing, too. The tests were clean. The doctor was right; it was only migraine. 

If you’d ask Minho what having them meant, he would tell you it is like a headache. Only twenty times worse. It will feel like you’re dying, but not really, because you are pretty much alive. 

Taemin guesses it will start soon, because blind-spots are kind of like a warning that a migraine will hit him in a few hours. But they can never be sure. He assumed Minho would be fine and that it hadn’t him yet, because he was doing just fine once they went live. He talked, he laughed. He even played the dumb games shows like this usually make them do. But then again, Minho is a good actor.

Once the show ended, the MC’s invited everyone to have some drinks, but Minho just walked out. Taemin followed, of course, and upon seeing their manager look at him strangely, it was obvious Minho didn’t say anything and went straight to the van. 

“You’ve got nothing after this, so it’s fine.” The manager said once he heard what Taemin had to say. “Are you staying here or going home with him?” 

“I’ll go with him,” Taemin said before walking to the van.

“Don’t sit like that,” Taemin said quietly upon opening the van’s door and seeing Minho sitting with his head in his hands, slightly leaning forward. “It’ll hurt more,” 

“It will hurt no matter what I do,” Minho mumbled. When Taemin was seated next to him, he immediately laid down with his head on Taemin’s lap. He felt grateful the younger didn’t object. He felt grateful that Taemin didn’t say anything, because as much as he loves hearing his voice, right now it feels like a shot to the head.

Upon arriving at the dorm, Minho walked straight to his room, but Taemin stopped him from doing so and guided him to the bathroom instead. Taemin knows that Minho won’t get up from the bed for a while so he must take a shower first. The lights were never turned on; the dorm looked like a spooky cave, but Taemin was used to it. For this few hours—or days, whatever the migraine decides—they’ll stay in the dark, or at least Minho’s room will.

While Minho showered, Taemin made him a small snack. He didn’t make a full meal because one: Minho most likely won’t feel like eating, the complete opposite to be honest, and two: Taemin isn’t that hungry to eat his own meal plus Minho’s if he doesn’t eat it. A simple snack is easier to make and it takes less time, and he can shove it down Minho’s throat if he must. 

“Here,” Taemin said, handing Minho a small sandwich to last him through the night. The older man was already on the bed. Even with the lights off, he had the bed-sheets all over his face. Seeing no reaction, Taemin tapped his shoulder. “Come on,”

“Later.” Minho mumbled.

“Now,” Minho groaned at Taemin’s insistence, but the latter did not budge knowing for a fact that Minho got all stupid(y) in his current state; he can’t blame him. However, Taemin can’t give in to his little tantrums; it’s Minho’s health they’re dealing with.

After making sure Minho ate his snack, Taemin went back outside and Minho went back under the covers. Taemin had some things to take care of before joining Minho to bed, and he knew it wouldn’t be smart to make phone calls close to Minho’s hearing range. Only when their manager called him to let him know that Minho’s schedule got cleared, and when he was sure that the three others knew of Minho’s conditions; that they would either live in complete darkness and silence or go back to their own homes, only then Taemin took a shower himself and got to bed.

It didn’t surprise him to see Minho sitting up with a pillow pressed against his ears. It was strange, Taemin doesn’t know if it makes the pain a little more bearable or not, he just knows that Minho sometimes does weird stuff while in pain. “How is it?” Taemin asked as he sat next to Minho. Minho shook his head slowly as he put down the pillow and rested his arms above his head. Taemin could tell Minho was doing his best in keeping his cool, for being in pain and not being able to do anything has always awoken a sense of desperation in him. Taemin remembers when Minho had cried out of frustration and pain when he had his wisdom teeth pulled out. It had broken Taemin’s heart.

Taemin took his arms and lowered them, he could already feel a small fever starting to develop. “Let’s sleep.” He said, pulling him along as he laid down to sleep. Even in the darkness of the room, Taemin still could make out Minho’s silhouette, and so he could still see the frown in his face that most likely would stay there if the migraine is present.

“What time is it?” Minho asked, his voice quiet and muffled by Taemin’s neck. “Around 12am, I think.” Taemin said, and the reply he got was a childish groan. “Why?” Taemin asked. They’ve been in bed for about ten minutes only. 

“I thought it has been a few hours.” Taemin’s heart broke when he heard Minho’s small whisper. He knew Minho was going through agony and he wanted nothing else but it to be over. Sadly, it has only just started.

“It’ll go away in no time,” Taemin whispered as he kissed his cheek, hoping to calm Minho’s desperation a little bit. He felt powerless in moments like this, because they could only wait and see when the migraine will go away since the medicines do nothing. Minho has always helped him when he has a problem, and it always ends good, and yet Taemin can do nothing for Minho. He can only hope for it to not be as bad as the last one.

 

“Thank you,” Minho said, hours later. Taemin was asleep long ago, but it was then that Minho could really grasp the situation they were in. Migraines always made him feel like he was in some type of dream in which he wasn’t sure if he was there or not. They always made his vison blurry and his mind too. But he often got a bit of clarity in rare times, and he would always say thank you. To him.

“For staying with me even in my little hell.”


End file.
